


invitations

by Quillium



Series: I Have a Spatula [11]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, bubble waffles appear for like 0.5 seconds but i'm saving that title for something with steph soooo, the obligatory christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillium/pseuds/Quillium
Summary: “This,” Timothy Drake says as soon as the results of the cookie baking contest are announced, “is a conspiracy against me.”“You put in salt instead of sugar,” Damian says scathingly.__Bruce and inviting his children home for the holidays.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: I Have a Spatula [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/987348
Comments: 20
Kudos: 183





	invitations

**Author's Note:**

> 1) If you haven't cleaned your room in the past week then you've gotta do that. If you have dirty dishes in the sink, wash those first. I'm very proud of you, you're doing great.  
> 2) If it seems a bit soft or out of character, I blame the gorgeous goldkirk's "Latchkey" which is a way better fic than this one (this one was written in like a 10 minute haze of last minute panic so that's not a rib at myself, just honesty) and I highly recommend to everyone.  
> 3) Bruce doesn't have a personal scene with some of his kids (namely Damian and Cass) because they live with him and therefore don't need to be invited.

Bruce is standing at the doorway of his bedroom, watching Dick pack, silent and stiff.

“You can just ask, you know,” Dick says, “Or even tell me, in that awkward way of yours where you take it for granted that I spend time with you guys.”

“I was about to,” Bruce says, stiff, awkward, looking away when Dick looks up.

“Yeah,” Dick’s voice softens as he gently puts Alfred’s cookies into his backpack, “Of course.”

Bruce is silent.

“Any time now.”

“But you already know.”

Dick laughs softly, “You’re so bad at this.”

The tips of Bruce’s ears redden.

“I’ll be home in time for the holidays. You know that,” Dick slings his backpack over his shoulder and hugs Bruce, “You’ll barely notice I’m gone.”

“Damian will miss you.”

“Will he be the only one?”

“No.”

“Alfie?”

“And myself.”

“It’s hardly a month,” Dick laughs, brushes some hair behind his ear, “It’s November, and I’ll be here by December 20th. Hardly any wait.”

“I know,” Bruce says, “Thank you for coming. Your input on the case was helpful.”

“We both know that I didn’t come here for the case.”

Bruce looks away for a moment, ears still red, and then he says, “I love you. You know that. I’m grateful to have you as my son—that’s—that will never change.”

“I know, B,” Dick kisses Bruce’s cheek, “I’m going to say bye to Damian and Alfie, now. I’ll be back before you know it, dad. Love you.”

“Love you,” Bruce says, and Dick bites down a smile as he goes to Damian’s room.

__

He’s already in Jason’s apartment when he finishes patrol, a dark silhouette on his sofa, unmoving, statuesque.

“Jesus Christ,” Jason mumbles, hand moving away from his gun, “I could have fucking shot you.”

“My apologies,” Bruce says, clearly not being sorry.

Jason rolls his eyes as he flicks open the lights and slides the window shut behind him, “Yeah, whatever. What brings you here?”

“I was hoping you might come home for the holidays.”

“This is my home.”

Hesitance, and Jason looks away, can’t bear to look, because if he looks when Bruce’s expression is like that, he might actually think he cares.

“You’re right,” Bruce speaks slowly, softly, that way he does when he’s sorting out the words in his head as he speaks (and Jason hates how well he still knows him), “I’m sorry. I was hoping you might come and visit the family.”

“If you wanted that, you should have sent Alfie or Dickie. I’m closer to them. Or blondielocks.”

“I—wanted you to be sure that it was me that wanted it.”

“Of course I know,” Jason says quietly, “Of course I know. You think I don’t know which books you picked, when Dick sends those dumbass care packages? I know Dick doesn’t read _Handmaid’s Tale_ or _eleanor and park_. I know that’s you.”

“Did you like them?”

“Of course I did. You know what I like. You know me.”

“Care to let me know your answer?”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“You know me, too, Jaylad.”

Bruce hasn’t called him that in a long, long time. It’s a risk he’s taking here. Maybe a calculated one. Jason doesn’t know. Maybe he’s just a pawn on Bruce’s board, maybe the fact that the nickname softens him is a deliberate move on Bruce’s part.

Maybe Bruce is still just the awkward dad who sucks but tries his best.

“I don’t know,” he says, throat dry, “We’ll see.”

“Okay,” Bruce stands up, like he’s going to leave, and Jason doesn’t know why, what compels him, but he wants Bruce to stop, so be blurts the first thing that comes to mind.

“Do you want some tea?”

Bruce stops. He’s this huge, lumbering mass of muscle and skill, and in that moment, he looks horrible awkward. Like he doesn’t know what’s happening.

“Just—like, over conversation,” What is Jason _doing_? “You don’t have to actually drink the tea, though Alfie says I make a mean cup.”

“Yes,” Bruce says, startled and hopeful and awfully stupid but wonderful all the same, “I would love to.”

Jason starts the kettle, and by the end of their conversation, he says, “I’ll go.”

Bruce smiles, kisses him on the temple, and says, “Thank you.”

__

There’s a lull on patrol night, Damian’s at home with a cold, and that’s the moment Batman takes to awkwardly clear his throat and say, “Oracle—“

“I’ll be staying with my dad over the holidays, of course,” Barbara says, idly scanning over government files, “But I’ll visit you guys. Like Steph.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. This your idea?”

“Are you surprised?”

Barbara cackles, “Shockingly, no.”

“Do you think—is it a good idea?”

She hums thoughtfully, and then says, “I think it’s you, taking a step forward, taking the initiative to be with your family. And I think—even if it flops—it’s good that you decided to do it.”

A moment of silence, and then, once more, “Thank you.”

The rest of the night is silent.

__

There’s something warm around him, hands under his knees, there’s—

“What—?”

“You shouldn’t work yourself too hard,” Bruce says, carrying Tim in bridal-carry across his apartment, “Rest is important, too, you know.”

“Hypocrite,” Tim mumbles, pressing his face into Bruce’s chest and closing his eyes. “Who do you think taught me these habits?”

“That was my bad,” Bruce says, “But you’ve always been better than me at most things, what’s one more?”

“Not true.”

“You are better than me. Even if you don’t see it.”

“You’re _Batman_.”

Quiet laughter as Bruce sets Tim in bed and pulls off his socks, “I’m the prototype for you kids.”

“No, you’re the _best_ , you’re—“

Bruce tosses Tim’s socks away and covers Tim with his blanket, hoodie and jeans and all. He seems to understand that Tim doesn’t even have the energy to change clothes. “Alright, chum, we can talk about it more in the morning, yeah? You need to rest now.”

“What—what did you come for?”

“Just an invitation. Go to sleep. I’ll talk to you in the morning. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mmkay.”

And true to Bruce’s word, when Tim wakes, he’s still there. In fact, he’s even ordered bubble waffles and milkshakes.

 _Come home for the holidays_ , Bruce says, and Tim’s chest swells with warmth as he says _of course_.

How could he say no to being with his family?

__

“Babe already told me,” Steph says when she finds Bruce sitting stiffly in her kitchen, “I’ll be there.”

He offers her an amused smile, “Okay.”

“Awesome,” Steph tosses her bag onto the kitchen counter, “Help me with my homework, college is killing me.”

__

“This,” Timothy Drake says as soon as the results of the cookie baking contest are announced, “is a conspiracy against me.”

“Your cookies were burnt,” Steph pops another piece of Dick’s peanut butter cookies into her mouth.

“You put in _salt_ instead of sugar,” Damian says scathingly.

Wordlessly, Cass hands Tim one of Jason’s cookies.

He takes a bite.

“Okay, fine,” he sits down, “I’ll accept Jason’s win. These are good. These are _really_ good, I—wow, Jay, where’d you learn to bake like this?”

“My boy Alfie,” Jason says, looking smug.

Bruce, their ‘impartial judge’, looks thoughtful, “Maybe I should get Alfred to teach me how to—“

“Maybe after Christmas break is over,” Dick says, a bit too quickly.

“But if I master baking before you boys return to your own homes, maybe I can bake for you—“

“Just being with you is enough, really, B! We just love being together with you so much. You do not need to back.”

“I’m not that bad. And, you know, practice makes perfect.”

“A tuna fish sandwich,” Tim says, expression turning distant, “You once messed up a tuna fish sandwich.”

“Because I didn’t have proper instruction and guidance!”

Dick hooks an arm over Bruce’s shoulders, “B-man, you know that we love and adore you, but I vote we leave the baking to Alfie and Jaybird, okay? At least for the holidays. You can practice while we’re gone.”

“Remember the cake incident?” Jason chirps up, braiding Barbara’s hair.

Bruce and Jason shudder.

“Okay. I’ll hold off.”

“I’ll eat anything you bake, father,” Damian, young, foolish, innocent and naive, says.

Bruce claps Damian’s shoulder, “I won’t hold you to that.”

“Hey, Jay, can you make more cookies?”

“Not for you, Dickface.”

“For me?” Steph asks.

“Not for you, either, darling.”

“Who _would_ you make it for?” Tim demands.

Jason squints, “Babs.”

“For me?” Cass asks.

“Yeah, you too.”

“Cookies,” Cass demands, “We’ll make them together.”

Jason kisses her forehead, “My little sister is so cute.”

“Cutest,” Cass agrees, “We’re baking, anyone joining?”

“B and I will take pictures,” Tim loops an arm around Bruce’s, “We won’t step foot in the kitchen, though.”

“Probably for the better,” Barbara exchanges glances with Steph and Dick, “I think the three of us were planning on painting nails and listening to music, but if you don’t mind Dick’s bad taste in music—“

“I have _amazing_ taste in music—“

“—If you don’t mind Dick’s horrible taste in music, we can be at the kitchen counter just to be together.”

“That’s so lame,” Jason says, “Let’s do it.”

“I will bake as well,” Damian declares, “It is important that I perfect as many skills as possible in order to grow as a person.”

“Aw, babybird!” Dick hugs Damian and kisses him on the cheek, “You’ve grown so much! I’m so proud of you!”

Damian squirms away, “Thank you, Grayson. We should go to the kitchen now.”

“I don’t know,” Tim smirks, “I think you and Dick look comfy—“

“Kitchen. Now.”

Laughing, the group moves to the kitchen.

The cookies are delicious, the nail painting is gorgeous, and Dick’s taste in music is—questionable.

Bruce loves every moment, spent with his family.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're all doing great. Rest well, take care of yourself, and don't procrastinate on studying for exams! <3


End file.
